Birthdays and Kisses
by RonaldAndMione
Summary: It's Hermione's 18th birthday and whilst she doesn't think anything special will happen, given that they're on the run, Ron might be able to change things without even realising.


_A/N It's Hermione's birthday, so, like I did with Ron in March, I've written a oneshot. This is dedicated to my lovely friend sherychery7, who shares her birthday with my favourite literary hero. Hope you all like it!_

**Birthdays and Kisses**

It'd been eighteen days since Hermione had last seen the outside world. It'd been eighteen days since she'd seen the hustle and bustle of London. It'd been eighteen days since she'd been inside a real home, a real building.

It'd been eighteen days, she knew, because she'd been counting each day, waiting for this particular one.

The last day she'd woken up in Grimmauld Place was the second of September. Eighteen days had passed since then.

Today was September 19, and it was her birthday.

Hermione blearily opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the murky green-grey of the canvas tent's ceiling. She could hear the light sprinkle of autumn rain as the drops hit the tent. The first thought that raced through her intelligent mind was _it's my birthday_.

"I'm eighteen," Hermione whispered aloud.

Funnily enough, she didn't feel different. She felt like she should. After all, she was now legally an adult – in the wizarding and muggle world. It was a big deal. When she was nine, her parents had mentioned to her how they would give her something very special when she was eighteen, because it was a very important day and now... Hermione had no idea if she'd ever see them again, let alone receive their all-important surprise for her.

A few tears spilled over her eyes, and she quickly wiped them. One shouldn't cry on their birthday, especially because their parents couldn't be there to share the day with them. One should be thankful that they're alive and safe.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to block out everything else and simply focus on the fact that it was her special day. Today was about her. Today she was eighteen. An adult and officially ready to face all the responsibilities of being one.

Perhaps the reason she didn't feel any different was because she was already facing issues even an adult wouldn't normally have to face. She had been forced to grow up already, which was why letting her age catch up wasn't a big deal – age was just a number to her now. It no longer meant anything.

Still, it was her birthday, and Hermione wouldn't have minded a small fuss over her. She wasn't expecting anything, though. They were stuck in the forest, camping out in a small tent. They all took turns wearing a locket that seemed to damper and lower their mood. And, to add insult to injury, it was raining, so not even the sunlight could brighten this day.

She hoped that Ron or Harry might remember her birthday. Sure, they wouldn't have any presents for her. She wasn't expecting them to. They might know it was her birthday... perhaps. She doubted it, though. They hadn't been counting the days like she had. They had had no reason to. Not only that, if they _had_ begun keeping track of the days, knowing Harry and Ron, they would have lost track. They'd have no idea it was her birthday.

Yet a part of her still wanted something special to happen today. It was her birthday, after all. One couldn't help but want something wonderful to happen to them, selfish as it might be.

_I'll be as selfish as I want_, Hermione thought. _It's my birthday_.

But what was she expecting? A giant pile of presents? A grand feast?

_Sleep_, Hermione decided, and closed her eyes. Harry and Ron wouldn't mind if she slept in for a little longer, would they?

"Hermione?"

Hermione opened her eyes to find Harry looking down at her.

"Yes?" she asked, part of her hoping for him to wish her a happy birthday.

"It's your turn to wear the locket," he said.

Hermione sat up and glared at the infuriating piece of jewellery. Wearing it was the last thing she wanted to do, but she did not protest. Instead, she took it from Harry's hands and slipped it over her head, pulling out her plait once the locket lay on her neck.

And immediately she felt as if something had a dark hold on her, gripping her tightly and holding her heart in their hands. It was as if she were trapped by a chain, rather than wearing a simple locket. But Hermione knew this would happen and expected it.

_Of course they wouldn't remember your birthday,_ a voice told her, a voice unlike hers. _Why would they? You're completely worthless to them._

_Illogical. Do you think they have time to celebrate your birthday?_

_Shut up_, Hermione told the voices, and lay back down in her bed.

"Hermione?" someone called out.

Hermione quickly sat up. It was Ron. Perhaps he'd remembered. A part of her rose up hopefully despite the heaviness inside her. "Yes, Ron?" she asked expectantly.

Ron was standing a few feet away from her, holding up a fish. "D'you mind helping me out with this?"

Hermione frowned but did not say anything. She stood up and took the fish out of his hands and stomped outside.

"Hermione, you all right?" Ron asked as he followed her.

"Just fabulous, Ron." She snapped.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to cook it myself but I'm just not as good at magic as you," Ron said kindly, ignoring her tone.

She sighed and tried to compose herself. It wasn't his fault he didn't know what the date was. They didn't have a calendar.

"That's all right, Ron, and you are good at magic," she told him, and whipped out her wand to cook the fish.

They hadn't remembered. At all.

She spent the morning of her eighteenth birthday cooking them fish, leaving only a small bite for herself, making Harry's bed, cleaning up the bed and checking supplies. It was like any other morning.

Hermione tried not to hold it against them. She really did. She tried to be understanding, but wearing the locket all day didn't particularly help.

After lunch, she had become so frustrated and annoyed she'd marched out of the tent, announcing she needed to take a walk. Ron had protested, pointing out that it was still raining, but Hermione had been so desperate to get some solitary time that she ignored him. She'd taken her basket and told them that when it rained the mushrooms grew rapidly and were much easier to spot.

And so she'd strolled through the forest, appreciating its beauty. After so long without any contact from the outside world, one could really start to appreciate the beauty in things they normally didn't. Hermione hadn't always liked the outdoors. She'd much preferred to sit inside and curl up on a couch reading a book. Now, she could see the elegance and grace in trees and the beauty and life in flowers.

When she returned to the tent, her basket filled with mushrooms, she spotted Ron sitting outside the tent, keeping guard. He seemed to be preoccupied with the ground and was drawing something in the dirt. Hermione could certainly understand why he was doing that – standing guard was awfully boring.

"I'll take the locket from Harry once he's done," Ron told her as she approached him.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"You don't have to wear the locket today," he said.

Hermione was too preoccupied with the first part of the sentence she hadn't realised the last word he'd said. "I _am_ wearing the locket. He gave it to me this morning."

"What?" Ron asked, eyes widening. "The git!"

"What's wrong?"

"It's your birthday!" he exclaimed, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "He had you wear the locket all day!"

"Oh, it's fine," Hermione said, feeling much less annoyed at the world.

"It's not fine! You're having a horrible enough day without the locket!" Ron said. "Does he even realise it's your birthday? He hasn't said anything about it at all today."

"Nor have you," Hermione pointed out, sitting down next to him.

Ron frowned. "Yeah, I have—" then he trailed off.

"You haven't." Hermione simply said.

Ron's eyes widened in realisation then promptly closed in frustration. "Oh, bloody hell, you're right. I thought I'd said something this morning..."

"The only thing you said this morning was 'can you cook breakfast?'" Hermione told him.

Ron slapped a hand to his head and cursed. "I tried to make breakfast for you... it didn't really work... and then I made you do it for me... bloody hell, I thought I'd wished you a happy birthday but..."

"It's okay," she said.

"No, it's not!" Ron exclaimed, putting his hand to his temple and rubbing it in frustration. "Bloody hell, I wanted this day to be special for you... or as special as I could make it... I counted the days from when we first left Grimmauld... I tried to make breakfast... I made my bed, I tried not to row with you, I... I've..." he sighed. "Should've realised how stupid that was. As if that'd make your birthday special, I—"

"It's okay, Ron," she told him earnestly, heart racing at the thought that he'd actually tried to make the day special anyway, by cooking for her and making sure she didn't wear the locket. He hadn't succeeded, but the very fact that he'd tried and actually remembered was more than enough. Besides, "my birthday's still not over," she pointed out.

Ron glanced up at her. "You're right," he said, almost to himself. "Happy birthday, Hermione."

Hermione beamed at him. The power he had over her was much stronger than the horcrux around her neck which was still trying to bring her down. "Thank you." She said to him.

"And, I've realised that cooking isn't my strong point," Ron said, "but it's your birthday, and you have to have cake on your birthday." He moved his hand away from the pile of dirt, revealing a muddy ball with a twig on the top. "It's not much, but..."

"It's perfect." She said, smiling at him. "Thank you, Ron."

Ron gave a sheepish grin and ducked his head bashfully. Hermione simply watched him in all his adorableness.

Then, after a moment, she heard a quiet "Happy birthday to you..."

Hermione furrowed her eyes for a moment, confused. Ron was sitting so still that it couldn't have been him...

But his ears were blending in with his hair and he was carefully hiding his face from her. The singing continued.

"Happy birthday to you..."

With every word he sounded more and more confident, slowly starting to show his embarrassed face. "Happy birthday, dear Hermione."

At that, she blushed, too, but continued smiling. Her beam was so wide she wondered if it'd ever be able to come off.

"Happy birthday to you."

Hermione let out a laugh and clapped her hands merrily. There was so little good to focus on nowadays that any glimmer of it was enough to make her euphoric.

"You can take off the locket, you know." Ron said to her. "You've had it on long enough."

Hermione paused. Whilst she did want to take off the incriminating jewellery, she didn't want Ron to put it on. His mood would sour and today, Ron was being simply wonderful. She didn't want to ruin that.

"How about neither of us wear it?" Hermione suggested.

Ron's eyes lowered to the crook between her shoulder and neck, where a glimmer of the locket's chain was showing. "Harry'd—"

"It doesn't really matter what Harry thinks, does it?" Hermione said. "It's my birthday and I say neither of us wear it."

A grin spread across Ron's face. "Wow, you get even bossier on your birthday. I didn't think that was possible."

Hermione playfully slapped his arm. "Git. You're supposed to be nice to me on my birthday."

"I am!" Ron exclaimed. "I'm saying you've accomplished a feat – being even more bossy than usual."

Hermione sighed and tried not to smirk. She lifted the locket up and pulled it over her head. Then, she placed it carefully on the ground, just behind her, so that it would be away from view but she'd be able to make sure nothing happened to it.

"There."

Ron remained quiet for a long time. Finally he spoke. "Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Have you heard about birthday kisses?"

Hermione could have sworn her heart stopped for a moment. In fact, to her, nearly everything did. The world stopped, time stopped.

Her silence prompted Ron to elaborate, "you know how on your birthday, you receive a kiss."

"Oh, yes, I know about that," she said breathlessly.

"I'm just thinking that it's a tradition... and... you're quite traditional..."

Hermione's heart began to beat faster. Was this really going to happen? "Yes, I am," she murmured.

"Well, Harry... he doesn't know it's your birthday, so... I guess only I can do it."

Hermione's eyes locked with his. "I guess so."

Ron moved a little closer, starting to lean in. Hermione did the same and closed her eyes, heart thudding wildly inside her.

And then she felt something warm, soft and a little wet against her cheek, and in a flash it was gone.

Hermione opened her eyes. She'd been expecting a kiss on the lips, but she wasn't too disappointed. This was the first time Ron had ever kissed her, so she would simply take what she got. That kiss on her cheek felt so wonderful, brief as it was, that she couldn't help but wonder what it'd be like on her lips. Perhaps next time...

Ron's ears were bright red and he was looking ahead at the trees in front of them, but he gestured to the cake with one hand and said, "You've got to blow out your candles."

Hermione laughed and leaned over towards the cake and candle. She puckered her lips up and noticed Ron's ears turn even redder.

"Make a wish," he reminded her.

There were so many things she could've wished for. There were so many things she wanted. She wished they would find all the horcruxes and manage to destroy them. She wished her parents would remember her. She wished that no more innocent lives would be lost.

But as she closed her eyes and blew the twig off the pile of dirt, she thought, _I wish I could have more of this_, because though Ron didn't know it, he'd given her the best birthday ever.

_A/N It's Hermione's birthday. I think she'd like for you to review this story. ;)_

_And happy birthday, Shery. I hope you have a good one. :)_


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